“I dinnae think it is wise for ye to be here now, Tormand,” Simon said, shifting so that he could keep a close eye upon all the other people in the hall.
“How did ye ken it was me?” Tormand asked, his annoyance over the easy recognition clear to hear in his voice. “I thought myself weel disguised.”
“Smearing something white in your beard and hair and wearing ugly clothing isnae a verra good disguise, leastwise nay to one who kens ye as weel as I do. Nor, I suspect, to the many women here who kenned ye verra weel indeed ere ye got married. And how is dear Morainn?”
Tormand cursed softly. “Fine. Healthy. The bairns are healthy. Is Ilsabeth safe?”
“Safe enough. She is secure within my home.”
“Secure as in safe? Or secure as in imprisoned?”
The thread of anger in Tormand’s voice told Simon he was right to think that trying to prove Ilsabeth innocent could become very complicated. He had several close friends amongst the Murrays and they were a very closely bound family, their loyalty and affection stretching out to even the most distant cousin. If he could not save Ilsabeth, or he decided she was guilty, Simon knew he could destroy friendships, even make a few enemies.
“Ye would rather I had sent her to the king?”
“Curse it, Simon, that lass didnae kill that mon nor would Cormac have anything to do with treason.”
“Ye ken Ilsabeth weel, do ye?” “Nay weel, but I do ken her. I also ken Cormac. He has spent his life trying to scrub away the stain his parents left on their name. He wouldnae toss aside a life’s work or endanger his own child.”
Simon did not think so either, but men had done stranger things. Fathers did not always have full control over or knowledge of what their children were doing. The fact that it made no sense for Sir Cormac to plot treason or Ilsabeth to kill a man she did not even know was not enough to declare them innocent, mere victims of someone else’s plots.
“Ye ken weel that I always seek the truth,” Simon said. “Always. My way worked for ye and for your cousin James. If Ilsabeth is innocent, I will prove it and find the guilty one, but allow me to say if until I get that proof.”
Tormand sighed. “As ye wish. Did she tell ye what happened? Did she e’en ken anything at all?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Simon told Tormand all Ilsabeth had told him. “It sounds as if it is the truth.” He caught sight of Hepbourn. “And that man is vain and foolish enough to be a traitor. But I need more than her word and the word of her kin. Proof, nay just my word or belief in her innocence, is what will get her free of this deadly tangle. ‘Tis why her father sent her to me. He trusts me to find that proof.”
“I ken it. I do,” muttered Tormand. “ ‘Tis just that I want this shadow o’er us all to go away. I want an enemy I can get my hands on instead of naught but accusations, lies, and whispers. I want Cormac and his clan to be able to cease running and hiding. God’s tears, if this continues for much longer there could weel be a lot of my clan running right alongside them.”
Simon understood his friend’s frustration. He shared it. Patience was something he had taught himself, learning that finding the truth required slow, tedious work at times. He was finding that patience difficult to cling to now. Simon tried to tell himself that was because the king was in danger, but he knew that was a lie. He wanted to grasp some hard fact, even some hint, of what plot was afoot and who was behind it for one reason only. He did not want to see that flare of hope in a pair of beautiful blue eyes die again, as it did each time he returned home with no news, no answers.
“We need to find David,” he said.
“David? Who is David?”
“Sir Hepbourn’s cousin. If what Ilsabeth tells me is true,” he ignored Tormand’s whispered curse–"this David is part of the plot. He follows Hepbourn, and a follower can often be a weak spot in any plan, easily broken.” Simon could see that some people were beginning to take too much notice of how he remained in the shadows. “Ye cannae be seen here nor can ye be seen to be helping me, but mayhap ye can move about enough to aid me in finding this David. Mayhap Morainn can help, too. I dinnae suppose she has had a vision about all of this.”
“Nay. Not one about what is happening now. She did have one in time to make certain that Cormac was ready when the danger came. By the time the soldiers entered Aigballa the only ones left inside were the old and the lame. The soldiers soon decided they were of no use but I fear a few died ere the soldiers gave up trying to get them to help take down their laird. Now the soldiers camp within the walls of Aigballa and word is that, if they arenae driven away soon, t’will be years before Cormac can clean up the mess they will leave behind.”
“I will see that he is recompensed for this. Nothing can bring back the dead, but some payment will help ease the burden of the damages done and make certain no more die as they try to restock their stores. One thing ere ye leave–”
“I am leaving, am I?”
“Aye. Too many grow curious about the shadow I speak to. Ilsabeth has two children.” “Nay, she doesnae. She is a maid.” “Foundlings, ye fool.”
“Bad time for her to take them in, but I cannae fault her for that.”
“Nay, and I dinnae. Howbeit, she has made me swear that, if she cannae care for them, I will see them safely to your family.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. That is if Old Bega will let them go.”
“Ye would let them stay with you?”
“Dinnae sound so surprised. I like children. I particularly like these children. And Old Bega has already clasped them close to her heart. I just wanted to be certain there was a place for them nay matter what happens. Now, go, because a few people have grown brave enough to draw nearer and your disguise wouldnae fool anyone.”
A moment later, Simon knew he was alone. He walked out of the shadows and made his way toward Sir Hepbourn. It was past time to have a talk with the man. If luck was with him, he might just get the fool to say something that would help show Simon which way to look next for the truth he sought. The way people around Hepbourn slowly stepped back as Simon approached was a little amusing. His reputation as the king’s man, or the king’s hound as some called him, made many people nervous.
“So, Sir Simon, the king has set ye on the trail of the traitors, has he?” asked Sir Hepbourn.
“He has,” Simon replied, thinking that the man was cleverly bold to bring the matter up so quickly, or innocent. Simon’s instinct told him it was the former. “I but wondered if ye had an opinion on where your lady might have fled. As the mon who was to be her husband, I thought ye may ken a secret or two that would help us find her.”
“Ah, weel, I assumed she was hiding with the rest of her clan.”
“Did ye. One shouldnae assume anything about a lass who would stab a mon in the heart and plot against the king.” The flare of anger in Hepbourn’s eyes pleased Simon. “Ye must have spent some time at Aigballa.”
“I did indeed.” Sending a brief, sad smile to the people nearest them, Hepbourn sighed. “A secretive lot they are. I thought that their reluctance to fully embrace me as a new member of their clan, as the mon who would soon claim the laird’s own daughter as his wife, was odd. Now I ken that they didnae wish to risk the chance that I might uncover their plots or any of their bolt-holes.”
“Mayhap such confidences would have come later, once ye were truly the lass’s husband.”
“Mayhap. Yet, Ilsabeth is one and twenty, far past marrying age. Ye would think her father would have welcomed a husband for her with open arms, especially one of my standing. But, I often got the feeling Sir Cormac watched me as if he feared I was
about to rob him blind.” He laughed and shook his head. And mayhap Sir Cormac sensed that ye were a threat to not only his daughter but his whole clan, Simon thought. “Did ye ken that the king’s own cousin was in the area, a lad he was verra fond of?”
“Nay. He ne’er approached me, nay e’en for a bed to sleep in for the night. I
assumed that he was there to watch the Armstrongs, that he had some idea that they were a threat to our king, and that is why the poor mon was murdered and left in a field of thistles to rot.”
“Assumptions again. Dangerous things, assumptions.”
Simon asked a few more questions and then walked away, ignoring the sudden flurry of whispers that erupted behind him. He needed to leave the court and think hard on his conversation with Hepbourn. Every word the man had uttered had carried the taint of falsehood. Hepbourn was clever, however, never saying anything that could draw suspicion to him yet constantly strengthening the suspicions that had sent the Armstrongs into hiding.
What kept Simon’s interest in the man keen, however, was the utter lack of doubt the man showed about Ilsabeth’s guilt. The man had courted her for months, become betrothed to her, yet he had never once expressed disbelief that the woman he had meant to wed would kill a man and plot to kill the king. Nor did Hepbourn make even the slightest attempt to seek the truth himself, if only to ease his own humiliation or to gain some revenge for being made to look the fool. The way Hepbourn was acting was wrong and it made Simon more certain, with every word the fool spoke, that Hepbourn was a very guilty man. It would take time, and luck, to prove exactly what the man was guilty of.
Children’s laughter greeted Simon as he entered his home and the sound caused a strange pang in his heart. The laughter belonged, he thought as a somewhat tousled MacBean arrived to take his cloak and gloves. Simon stepped into his hall to find Ilsabeth and the children wrestling together on the floor, Bonegnasher occasionally hurling its furry body into the melee. The cat was curled up in a chair safely out of the way.
“Si–mon!” called Elen when she saw him, and immediately ran to him.
Simon caught the child up in his arms. She put her small arms around his neck and hugged him. It felt good, he thought. It was a welcome home any man would enjoy. He realized he had quickly come to like arriving home to his three guests and that worried him. Simon knew that he was seeing what his life could be like with a family of his own and the lack of it would hit him hard when Ilsabeth and the children were gone. He was going to have to try harder to hold himself away from them, to continue to simply seek the truth and not fall into some impossible dream of hearth and home.
Ilsabeth stood up and smoothed out her skirts all the while keeping a close watch on Simon. When Elen had rushed to greet him, Ilsabeth had seen those cold gray eyes soften. Something very like a smile had touched Simon’s mouth. Then his expression had hardened again, as if he had suddenly realized what he was doing and retreated into the cold tool of justice he so tried to be.
She knew there was more to him, however. He might keep his distance but he was good to the children. He had not sent her to the king to sit in a damp, filthy dungeon while he searched for the truth and the real traitors. It was that part of him that he tried so hard to keep hidden that she wanted; it was that man who had her feeling things she had never felt before, wanting things she had never really wanted before. Ilsabeth was determined to get Simon to stop burying that man under the ice.
“We need to speak privately,” he said as he set Elen down only to have the child hug his leg.
“After the evening meal and the children are put to bed then,” said Ilsabeth.
“Agreed.”
After gently removing Elen from his leg, Simon left. Ilsabeth suspected he was headed to the little room that held all his papers, the room where he wrote down all he had learned and needed to learn to find the answers he sought. She had sneaked a look into that room. It was small, dark, and eerily tidy. Simon probably thought it was a perfect reflection of the man he was but, in her heart, she knew different. The problem was that she was the one he was seeking the truth about this time, and that fact gave him the strength to keep her at a distance.
As she began to ready the children for the evening meal, she wondered if Simon would soften a little when he found out that she was no more than a pawn in Walter’s game, the innocent fool who had put herself in a position to be used. She hoped so for, the moment she found a chink in Sir Simon Innes’s armor, she was going to chip away at it until she found the heart of the man. If luck was with her, he would then give her the chance to win it for her own.
The soft rap at the door of his ledger room drew Simon from his dark thoughts. He knew it was Ilsabeth and he almost resented the way his heart skipped a beat in anticipation of seeing her. She was inching her way beneath his skin, he thought crossly, and he could not seem to stop it. The best thing he could do was solve the puzzle and get her out of his home as fast as possible. While it was true that he had lately been thinking of having a wife, he did not want one who could so easily unsettle him with just a smile.
“Come in,” he called as he did his best to shore up his defenses against her.
Ilsabeth entered the room and his defenses cracked as he politely stood up. Simon inwardly cursed but did his best to hide his irritation. It was not Ilsabeth’s fault that he was discovering a weakness for big blue eyes and long black hair.
“Ye said we needed to talk privately,” she said as she took the chair facing his worktable and he sat down. “Have ye discovered something that will help me?”
Simon sat down and studied her for a moment. He saw no harm in allowing himself to enjoy how pretty she looked in her dark blue gown, her thick hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders. He was just a man after all. This gown revealed her womanly curves as well. Full, high breasts, a small waist, and hips any man thinking of children would appove of. His palms itched with the need to touch all that softness. Simon struggled to rein in the lust that was getting harder and harder to control.
“I havenae found anything to proclaim your innocence to the world and set ye and your family free. Nay yet.” He fought the need to reassure her when the hope in her eyes abruptly dimmed into grim acceptance. “What I have discovered is that Hepbourn is no innocent fool tricked by a wicked woman.” He nodded when she made a scoffing noise. “Near every word out of his mouth is a lie. Tell me, when he asked for your hand, did he declare an undying love or something of that ilk?”
Ilsabeth thought Simon sounded far too cynical about such declarations of love and devotion. There was nothing to mock in such heartfelt emotions. Some men and women actually meant them. Ilsabeth wondered who had said them to him and then proven her words a lie.
“He did,” she replied. “I wasnae so certain I believed him. I had the thought that he was just saying what he felt was right when asking a woman to be his wife. Fool that I was, I still thought he would make a good husband. But why is what he said then of any importance?”
“I just wondered, for he is already at court and has never once spoken of how ye couldnae have done what they said ye did. He has given ye nary a word of defense. He hasnae e’en acted confused, uncertain, about what is said of ye. That isnae right.”
“What does he say?”
“A great deal about how he was a fool nay to see what ye had planned. He also makes certain to remind anyone who will listen to him that the Armstrongs are traitors and ye are nay only a traitor but a killer. ‘Tis a verra odd thing for a mon who was betrothed to you to do.”
“He is trying to protect himself and his family.”
“That could have been done by staying at home. Instead, he has come to court and makes certain that no one forgets what ye and your clan have been accused of.”
Ilsabeth was so angry she wanted to hit something. Going to the court and punching Walter in his elegant nose was a tempting thought. Only the sure knowledge that she would be immediately taken up by the king’s soldiers kept her from doing so. She would rather her innocence was proven before she was executed.
“ ‘Tis difficult to ken how I didnae see what kind of mon he truly was,” she murmured, and shook her head at her own idiocy.
“He is verra good at hiding his true intentions.”
“Ye saw them.”
“I wasnae loo
king for a husband,” he drawled. “Most of the ones he is wooing at the court dinnae ken that he is lying to them. Hepbourn uses his fine looks and smile to the best advantage. Your father ne’er liked him, did he?”
“Nay, not verra much.” Ilsabeth smiled. “He said he thought the mon was too good at saying what others wanted to hear, but my father’s greatest worry was the mon’s mother. He didnae think I would be allowed to take my rightful place in Walter’s household. My mother convinced him that I would.”
“Do ye think his mother is part of all this?”
“I am nay sure. She does see herself as being of far more importance than she is and she does rule Walter in many ways. I cannae believe she has no idea of what he is plotting and yet I cannae think she would easily ignore something she didnae agree with. What I can see is that, if power and riches were promised, she would believe she and Walter deserve them.”
Simon nodded, thinking it might be time to have someone speak with Walter’s mother. “I also saw your cousin Tormand.”
“Is he weel?” She frowned. “And shouldnae he be staying away from the king and all his people for a while?”
“He should stay far away but he willnae. I have set him to finding David. Do ye happen to ken what David’s last name is and where he lives?”
“ ‘Tis Hepbourn and he mostly lives with Walter. I had the feeling he has done so for a verra long time.”
“Good.” It would be the first place Tormand looked, Simon thought. “Tormand also said that your family is still safely hidden away. The soldiers hold Aigballa and I fear a few of those who stayed behind were killed when the soldiers came through the gates.”
Ilsabeth fought back an urge to cry. She would save that for when she was private. The ones who had stayed behind at Aigballa had chosen to do so knowing the risks. They had undoubtedly bought her family a little more time to get away and for that they would be forever honored. She just prayed that she would have a chance to make Walter pay dearly for their lives.
Highland Protector Page 5
